Page 14 of The Shipwreck (The Warrior Maids of Rivenloch)

Brandr hardly felt the throbbing in his broken arm. It was nothing compared to the panicked throbbing of his heart. The woman had almost fallen into the fire. Thank Odin he’d had the reflexes and strength to save her. “Are you all right?”

She lifted her head to look up at him. There was a curious expression on her face, as if she were simultaneously relieved and horrified.

Then he realized what part of her was nestled against his palm, and suddenly the throbbing of his arm and his heart diminished in comparison to the burgeoning throbbing in his trousers. It had been a long time since he’d felt the soft fullness of a woman’s breast. His response was unavoidable.

They stared at each other uncertainly, knowing they had to extricate themselves from this awkward predicament somehow, both reluctant to move for fear of making it worse. The moment stretched on, becoming more and more strained, and neither budged.

And then a strange thing happened. Avril closed her eyes and made a small sound in her throat, not quite a sigh of pleasure, not quite a whimper of distress, and her fingers tightened with subtle pressure on his chest. He froze, afraid to breathe.

When she opened her eyes again, it was only halfway, and she lowered her gaze to his mouth. He, too, was drawn to her lips—so sweet, so tempting, like ripe fruit just out of his reach.

He had the mad urge to lean down and steal a kiss, to taste her soft, succulent lips once again, to be reckless and bold and claim her like a marauder.

But the damned leather collar around his neck prevented him.

Hell, it was just as well. After all, it would be a mistake to do something so impulsive and irresponsible. It would destroy her trust and ruin his plans for escape.

He had to resist temptation.

She, however, didn’t even try.

Lust knocked Avril over like an unexpected ocean wave, stealing her breath away, dragging her into deeper currents, drowning her good sense.

In some dim corner of her brain, she knew she should back away. But Brandr’s chest felt deliciously strong and supple beneath her fingers. His breath caressed her brow. His eyes were smoky and inviting. What she really wanted to do was kiss him.

She eased forward the slightest bit, sucking in a quick breath as his hand rasped gently across her breast. She hesitated, then moved against him again, relishing the tantalizing friction as his palm grazed her.

The third time, she squeezed her eyes shut in pleasure.

And he responded, moving his thumb tenderly across her nipple.

There was no stopping the coursing tide then. With a soft gasp, she surged forward, caught his stubbled face between her hands, and planted her lips across his enticing mouth.

His cheek was coarse, he smelled of smoke and the sea, and his body was as hard and rough as seasoned oak. But his lips were warm and yielding, and his kiss was filled with gentle wonder.

He answered her at once, angling his face to release and recapture her lips, drawing them in with his own.

He breathed passion across her cheek and gasped as she licked experimentally at his mouth.

His jaw opened in invitation, and for an instant she hesitated, wondering if he’d bite her like that wolf in his story.

Then yearning overrode caution, and she let her tongue venture within, enjoying the ale-sweet taste of him and the pleasing shock as his tongue answered in kind.

Her eager fingers furrowed through his hair, unmindful of his salt-crusted tangles. She pressed closer, letting her breasts chafe provocatively against his chest. They were both breathing heavily now, and she could feel her heart beating like the ocean pounding the shore.

She continued to kiss him, in too deep to turn back. She dared not stop to take a breath, for fear one of them might come to their senses and halt the exhilarating madness.

His soft groan, deep in his throat, was like the purr of a great wild animal, and it sent a frisson of strange current through her, as if he’d called to her. Lightning coursed through her body and struck at the place she most longed to be touched—that burning ember between her thighs.

He seemed to know instantly what she needed. His hand found her, even through her skirts, cupping her with a firm precision that made her gasp. She shivered as he rubbed slowly against her, easing and provoking her at the same time.

She squeezed her eyes tightly. This was mad. It was wrong. And yet it felt so right. She couldn’t seem to stop. His body was a strong lodestone, and she was drawn to him like a powerless scrap of iron.

He opened her mouth wider with his, thrusting his tongue inside, devouring her, and she feasted equally on him. Her nipples stung where they brushed across his chest. And where his fingers now delved with more intense finesse, she began to swell with longing.

Desire rose like an incoming tide, too swift to escape, and soon she was swept off her feet. Higher and higher she was carried on a wave of lust, out of control, unsure of her destiny, led by a stranger. And yet she was helpless to resist.

Brandr was past thought. Otherwise, he’d never have put himself in this situation. This was the woman who had knocked him out and tied him up, and what was he doing? Pleasuring her.

Of course, she wasn’t the only one receiving pleasure. It had been a long while since he’d enjoyed the attentions of a woman so enthusiastic and forthright, a woman who lustily took what she wanted. But his body hadn’t forgotten how to respond to such enthusiasm.

He naturally let her have her way.

He let her kiss him like a greedy suckling lamb. He let her explore his body, run her fingers over his chest and through his hair. He let her press the supple pillows of her breasts against him. He let her arch against his hand, begging wordlessly for his touch.

And he answered her onslaught with the instinctive cravings of his love-starved body.

Blood rushed through his veins and roared in his ears as their tongues entwined and their breath mingled. Even through the layers of linen, the tempting crevice between her legs was impossibly hot, and he ached to plunge there with more than just his fingers.

Indeed, the lusty beast in his trousers was rousing, growing more demanding and frustrated by the moment. And the fact that satisfaction was so close, yet unattainable, drove him even more mad.

What made him open his eyes, he didn’t know—maybe a warrior’s innate sense of his surroundings. But the flicker of peripheral movement made him freeze.

The sudden tension in his body instantly alerted her as well. She stiffened, her lips still clinging to his.

“Mama!” came the little girl’s scolding voice from the doorway. “I told you a hundred times, don’t go near that bad man!”

Avril’s eyes went wide, and she pulled away in horror, struggling to her feet and stammering. “I…I…I…”

Since she seemed too tongue-tied to come up with a reasonable explanation, Brandr offered one. “Your mama fell,” he said, which was true.

“Aye,” Avril choked out, straightening her garments. “I fell.”

The little girl eyed them uncertainly, and Brandr held his breath, waiting. Then Kimbery shrugged and skipped off to the kitchen, plopped down on her stool and began chattering to her doll.

The air was heavy with unrequited desire, and the tension between Avril and him was as taut as a drawn bowstring.

He didn’t dare speak or even glance at her for fear of rekindling the volatile spark between them.

It seemed like an eternity before his hunger subsided and he could draw an even breath.

Avril couldn’t look at the Northman. She pressed her fingertips into her brow, hiding her eyes behind her hands in shame.

What had she done?

Hell, she’d let him kiss her, hold her, touch her. She’d shown weakness to her enemy, let him gain the upper hand, surrendered to his seduction. But she couldn’t let him believe that he’d won some victory over her, that she was somehow vulnerable to him.

Making sure Kimbery was occupied and avoiding Brandr’s gaze, she hunkered down to poke at the fire and whispered sharply, “Never do that again.”

He barked out an incredulous chuckle, then whispered back, “What—save you from falling into the fire?”

Her lips thinned. “Kiss me,” she whispered. “Never kiss me again.”

He scoffed, then whispered, “I believe it was you who kissed me .”

Her face grew hot at the truth of his words, but she didn’t dare back down. “An honorable man would never make such…” The words stuck in her throat as she remembered the glorious sensation of his hand between her legs. “Such bold advances toward an unwilling woman.”

He murmured, “I don’t recall you being unwilling at all.”

She gasped, casting an anxious glance at Kimbery.

“In fact,” he continued, “I’m collared and bound and chained to the wall. It isn’t as if I had a choice in the matter.”

It was true, of course. She’d thrown herself at him. But he didn’t have to come out and say it.

She felt thoroughly humiliated now. She’d made a fool of herself, attacking him with the same raw aggression she’d used on her lovers in that shameful period after her rape.

Only this was much worse. This time she’d forced herself upon a man with no power to resist her.

Hell, she was no better than the berserker who’d violated her.

Was that why she’d thrown herself at Brandr? Was she somehow seeking revenge upon him for what another of his kind had done to her?

As much as it pained her to admit it, she feared it might be true. She’d treated the Northman with undeserved disrespect. She owed him an apology. Swallowing hard and closing her eyes, she mumbled, “You’re right. It was dishonorable of me. I’m sorry.”

After what seemed an interminable length of time, he breathed, “I’m not.”

Their glances collided then. And in that moment that caught them both off-guard, they were no longer Viking and Pict, no longer prisoner and captor, but man and woman.

What had made Brandr admit the truth about how he felt, he didn’t know. It was reckless and unwise. The more emotionally entangled he became with this woman, the harder it would be to betray her and make his escape.

But he couldn’t deny he felt…something…for the fiery Pictish lass. What troubled him was that it might be something deeper than just physical lust.

Lust he could deal with. It made sense, after all. He’d been without a woman for so long, it was only natural his body should respond at the first available opportunity. But if it were something more…

By Thor, he had to get out of this mess!

Avril, obviously discomfited by his confession, backed away and ushered Kimbery outside, ostensibly to gather cockles, but probably also to get a breath of fresh, sobering air.

While they were gone, Brandr worked at the iron ring, pulling and twisting to try to loosen it from the mortared stone.

The woman might not have turned him in to her neighbor this morn, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t ever.

Even if she relished the idea of having captured a Viking, even if she enjoyed lording it over him as her prisoner, even if she found amusement and pleasure in his arms, eventually she’d tire of it… and him.

He shouldn’t have encouraged her. True, he was collared and bound and unable to avoid her caresses. But he could have turned a cold countenance to her. He could have refused to bend to her seductive will. He could have clamped his mouth shut and made fists of his hands.

Instead, in an instant of weakness, he’d ignored reason.

He’d let himself be tempted by her feminine desire, allowed himself to drift with her on an erotic sea.

And for one moment, he’d almost believed that they were kindred souls floating there, that they shared a common destination and a deeper destiny.

But he had to ignore such feelings. It would only make things more difficult when the time came to play the traitor.

He yanked hard at the collar, bruising his throat.

The iron ring wouldn’t budge. He cursed and slumped back against the wall.

How much longer did he have? How much longer would it be before Avril decided he was a bad influence on her daughter and a danger to her?

How much longer before she turned him in?